


Lick

by TheCephalopodAgency



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Not shipping - Freeform, Poor Hank, a really bloody one, actually connor broke him, connor no, eventually, he'll be okay, i broke hank, it might seem shippy but i swear it's not, it's a crime scene, lick, mentions of a lot of blood, only the best father/son relationship for this precious boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCephalopodAgency/pseuds/TheCephalopodAgency
Summary: Hank is always telling Connor not to lick strange puddles of blood he finds on the floor. The only logical conclusion to take a sample from somewhere else.





	Lick

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this idea on Tumblr and the urge to write kicked me in the head at around five in the morning. I wrote the entire thing half asleep so it might have some inconsistancies but it made me laugh so I'm posting it.

"Jesus fucking Christ, this all came out of one person?!" Was the first thing out of Hank's mouth when he stepped into the room. Connor slipped through the door immediately after, curious. His eyes widened a fraction when he got his first look at the scene.

 

There was blood everywhere, staining the white walls and carpet with violent streaks of color. The mutilated body was stretched out on the bed, eyes forever locked on the ceiling.

 

He analyzed the room and confirmed that the amount of blood was roughly 5.3 Liters, within the average range of blood for a woman of her age and mass. He voiced this conclusion for his partner and shoved his hands in his pockets. The urge to dip his fingers in the fluid and analyze it was itching beneath his skin. Hank hated it when he put evidence in his mouth.   
  
'You don't know where that's been, Connor!' He always said.

  
But that was the point of testing it, so he  _ would _ know. Of course when he tried to explain this to his partner, he wrinkled his nose and his lip curled up in what Connor assumed was disgust.

 

After giving it some thought, Connor realized the problem was that Humans were vulnerable to disease and their bodies would react accordingly if they detected something that could make them ill. The floor was host to a multitude of disease causing microorganisms, therefore, seeing him sample blood from the floor caused the biological reaction to kick in.

 

It was understandable. Hank cared a great deal for Connor and worried for him despite the fact androids could not get ill. He would refrain from causing Hank any unneeded stress and find a better location to collect a sample. He scanned the room and noticed Hank seemed to have brushed against something with the victim’s blood on it-- not a hard thing to do when it was everywhere.

 

He would have to remind his to put gloves on later to avoid contaminating evidence, but for now, he could use it. After all, Humans maintain good hygiene (usually) as another preventative measure against disease. Hank washed his hands (a little less often than he should to be honest) therefore his disgust reaction shouldn't be triggered if he took the sample from his skin.

 

Connor stepped around a particularly wet puddle of blood (fresh, perfect for analysis, but forbidden) and reached for Hank’s hand. Instead of jerking away like he might have a few weeks ago, Hank gave no indication that he even noticed Connor was touching him. It made something inside his biocomponent equivalent of a heart flutter with joy the first time Hank hugged him and called him son.

 

Naturally, he began to crave the contact, and Hank quickly got used to hugging him or touching in general whenever he felt he needed it. It was hard to believe he spent so many months of his short life denying himself the comfort of physical contact with another person.

 

He raised Hank’s hand to his mouth and touched the bloody fingers to his tongue, humming thoughtfully as the data compiled in his head.

 

DNA Analysis: BARR, Christine.

Sample Date: > 3.7 Hours

Sex: Female/Male

Other: Traces of stimulant ‘Red Ice’.

 

No, that can’t be right. There were two unique samples of blood. He needed more to distinguish the two. Without thinking about it, he swirled his tongue around Hank’s fingers to collect enough for a better profile.

 

DNA Analysis: BARR, Christine

Sample Date: >3.7 Hours

Sex: Female

Other: N/A

 

DNA Analysis: UNKNOWN

Sample Date: >3.7 Hours

Sex: Male

Other: Traces of stimulant ‘Red Ice’.

 

Satisfied, he removed Hank’s fingers from his mouth and moved in to examine the body. The right leg was connected to the torso through a few centimeters of rough flesh, as if the killer was attempting to partition her body into smaller parts, likely for easier disposal before abandoning the effort.

 

A saw lay abandoned on the floor by the bed, and bloody footprints led from it to the smashed window. Connor confirmed the presence of the unknown suspect’s blood on the edges of the shattered glass and reconstructed the most likely event.

 

According to the 911 call, the woman’s neighbor heard suspicious sounds coming from her home around 9:23 AM, and her car was in the driveway, indicating that she was missing work. He knocked on the door and moments later, the sound of shattering glass reached his ears.

 

The killer was attempting to dispose of the body  when the neighbor startled him, causing him to flee. He dropped the saw and escaped out the window. Connor pushed the window up and climbed outside, minding a few footprints sticking out of the soft soil of an upturned potted plant.

 

The footprints went on around the side of the house. He followed diligently, piecing together the possible route the killer took from the traces of blood and soil. Meanwhile, Hank was staring at the bloody smears on his fingers with dumbfounded surprise.

 

Connor’s mouth was colder than he expected it to be. Not that he ever thought his fingers would be in there, of course. It was also much wetter than he thought, for a person that had no saliva. He looked away from his cold, wet fingers and watched Connor disappear out the window, following some trail of evidence only he could understand.

 

Collins cleared his threat. “Well. Hank, I uh, didn't know you and Connor were so… close.”

 

He wanted to defend himself. Shout no, it wasn't like that. Connor was like a son to him, he just… couldn't think. He looked back at his fingers. They were tingling now, from whatever chemical his tongue secreted when analyzing biological samples. That was such a weird sentence to think about.

 

“What… the fuck…” he managed to spit out, wiping his fingers off roughly on his jacket. Connor knew he wasn’t interested in him that way. Didn't he? He called him ‘son’ sometimes, when it was just the two of them and Sumo, relaxing at home together after work. The kid even called him ‘dad’ one night when he thought Hank was asleep. There was no way he was attracted to him if he called him dad. 

 

No, it had to have been a misunderstanding Connor was still naive about a lot of things he was never programmed to understand. This was just another hiccup they would have to talk over later. That had to be it.

 

Unless he was into that kind of thing, his mind supplied just when he was starting to calm down. Immediately he was concerned again.

 

“Hank?” Ben nudged his shoulder, dragging him out of his horrifying train of thoughts. His brow was wrinkled with worry. “I was just kidding Hank.”

 

It was too fucking early for this.


End file.
